72 Degrees and Sunny
by Fauxstales
Summary: A recent High school graduate, Alfred, attempts to make his way through college by getting a job as a garbage man with the BNL company. One day, their route starts to include the wealthy neighborhood of one Lab tech who's also with the BNL company: Arthur Kirkland. The weekly trash run becomes a means of budding friendship.


Today, today was the day. Today was the day that would make all days, Alfred thought as he climbed aboard the back of the garbage truck. It had only been a week or so since he'd taken the job as a garbageman to earn a little money while he was attending college, but he was already enjoying it. The smell wasn't always pleasant, nor was having to ride in the back of the truck and hauling 50lb plus bags over his head (there was always that threat of debris). Still, it was a job, and if he was going to be the first in his family to ever finish college, he would have to fund it somehow! Today, though, today was a new day filled with bright promise. The company he was working for, Buy and Large, had recently been contracted to start doing routes through what Alfred liked to call "The Big Wig Neighborhood". Each house standing stories high, windows and sky-lights gracing every square inch; gardens that seemed to stretch for miles. What a way to live! Even if he couldn't enjoy the comforts of the rich and famous, he could at least have once a week in which he could pretend he did.

The Florida sun was beating down in its usual relentless manner, and even for 7 in the morning, it was already well into the 70s. He clutched the railing on the back of the truck tightly as they approached the high, arching golden gates to which Alfred assumed was the closest thing to heaven he'd ever see on earth. As they crossed the threshold, Alfred's eyes widened. He had to take off his thin-rimmed glasses and wipe them on his shirt to ensure what he was seeing was real-even if it only served to make them dirtier. Alfred was stunned by the apparent affluence, the sheer glamour! The trash itself seemed to be laced with gold, the cans silver-plated and engraved with the initials of its owner as to differentiate them from the others that lined the end of each expansive driveway.

About halfway through the route, the sun had finally managed to peer over the horizon, and started to take its place in the sky. The garbage truck stopped to allow its minion to grab the can, the gluttonous beast groaning with anticipation for the waste that never seemed to satisfy its appetite. Alfred hopped down, wiping the sweat from his brow as he approached the can.

AK

It read.

"Huh…AK-That's a funny-sounding name. 'Ackkkk!'" he laughed to himself preparing to push the can forward. It was then, he spotted someone out of the corner of his eye.

He looked up and was greeted with the disgruntled face of a blonde gentleman, probably in his late twenties, with the thickest eyebrows he'd ever seen in his life. The man was dressed only in a white, satin bathrobe, with matching white slippers on his feet. He stood at the edge of his driveway, a cup of something steaming in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

"Woah!" Alfred jumped back, nearly tipping over the trashcan, but quickly righted himself before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

"Oh-sorry, man! But you sneaked up on me there…"

"Yes, quite." The gentleman answered with a heavy british accent. "But what was that you were saying about my name?"

Alfred coughed in his grimy black gloves, hoping to dismiss the matter as nothing more than an offhanded jest.

"Oh! I was just saying that….AK sounds awesome! But, " he waved his hands in the air before placing them on top of the trashcan lid, "I was just—curious as to what they stood for is all. " His voice oozed sincerity…or at least he hoped it did.

The Englishman gave Alfred a once-over, inwardly remarking on the disgusting condition of the attire, from his sludge-covered black work boots, to the dingy golden overalls that bore the insignia of his company in bold red and white letters, to the abrasive matching yellow ball-cap on his head. The insignia he was quite familiar with, as it also happened to be the company who owned the research institute at which he worked. He was always amazed how many facets of this countries lifestyle BNL controlled. Nonetheless, this Alfred was a piece of work.

"Yes, well, it stands of Arthur Kirkland, whom I am, and it happens to be the trashcan that I believe was suppose to be taken in over an hour ago by the Buy and Large trash company, which is whom you are."

"Alfred."

"What?"

"You can call me Alfred." He reached his hand out to him, an unusually bright grin appearing behind the layer of grease that caked his face.

Arthur merely stared at Alfred's hand, uncertain of how to respond.

"Oh! Duh-wait a second."

Alfred withdrew his hand, removing the glove to produce what he would consider a 'more sanitary' hand for the other to shake. Arthur continued to stare at it with obvious distaste, but eventually sighed. Oh the pride of an English gentleman. At least he'd done his best to be congenial.

Arthur moved the newspaper to the crook of his arm, still balancing the mug in his other.

"A pleasure, I'm sure. "

Alfred's smile widened, catching Arthur's eyes in his own.

"Yep! It's nice to meet you, Artie."

"MR. Kirkland, if you please."

Alfred laughed, slipping the glove back on.

"Well you can call me Alfie, if you want. All my friends call me that. "

"That's wonderful for them." Arthur's crass demeanor only seemed to worsen the longer the youth stood before him.

"You know, you seem like a great guy, Al—I mean, Mr. Kirkland." He tilted his head up to the two-story victorian household behind him. A low whistle trilled from Alfred's lips. "And that's some house you got there!"

"Yes, well, I do appreciate your admiration of my abode, but I do believe that the matter of your job still requires some attention. "

Arthur pressed the mug to his lips and sipped quietly as he watched Alfred scramble in embarrassment back to the trashcan, lifting it with an impressive amount of effortless grace over its head and into the bin. Alfred rolled the receptacle back to its owner, still wearing a grin from ear to ear.

"There you go, MR. Kirkland. We're always here to help out. Thank you for choosing BNL!"

"Hmmm…Yes. What was it again? All you need and so much more?"

Alfred raised his hand to his forehead in a salute, heels touching and back straight.

"Haha, right! Everyone loves BNL!"

Arthur raised a brow, feeling the edges of his mouth begin to turn up in amusement. He dismissed the feeling upon realization and cleared his throat.

"Indeed." His body half-turned towards the truck, just in time for a loud, ear-splitting honk to pierce the air. "It seems as if your services are needed elsewhere."

Alfred winced, waving back at the driver in apology, spinning on his heels, and winking to Arthur.

"Just call me—The Garbage Hero!"

Arthur shook his head and smirked. Americans could be so strange sometimes.

"See you next week!" Alfred called, having regained his rightful place on the back of the truck that was just as outlandishly gold as his overalls.

Although Arthur didn't quite understand it, was now looking very forward to garbage day.


End file.
